


Fantasy Island

by missdeviant



Category: The OC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-18
Updated: 2004-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdeviant/pseuds/missdeviant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. Go with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasy Island

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://torchthisnow.livejournal.com/profile)[**torchthisnow**](http://torchthisnow.livejournal.com/). Because, well, it always is.
> 
> (but only because she IM's me with messages that go something like this: "I want Ryan/Seth fic! I want you to write it! And I want there to be groping! And penises! Big ones!")
> 
> So, this is my first PWP. Usually I have more plot in my stories. And less smut. And probably less cliches. But what Sum wants, Sum gets. Maybe now she'll stop calling me "Coop."
> 
> Disclaimers: Don't own. Just play with to appease my friends insatiable needs. I make no claims as to quality of said fic, as it was written under duress. (*g*) Unbeta'ed. You've been warned.

As Seth traced lines down Ryan's stomach with his fingertips, he thought he could see Ryan's pulse beneath the thin white cotton of his shirt, a quick fluttering matching his own.

There was something unreal about the moment, as if it had climbed out of Seth's late night fantasies and straight into his lap. Not that Ryan was in his lap. Because Ryan was just. Sitting. On the bed. Letting Seth touch him.

It was simpler than his fantasies, and in that way it was better.

In his life, there had been moments like this. The first time his grandpa had taken him sailing, for one. He didn’t think the salt air would feel any different on the bow of a ship than it did when he was walking along the beach, the wind blowing across the Pacific in short gusts, ruffling his curls. But it did.

Or the time that Summer had pulled him aside and kissed him. Both times. All three times. Hell, every time Summer kissed him was like that, even after they were dating. He’d played it up so big in his head that it wasn’t real, until the awfulness, the whole fish-sex aspect kicked in.

Yeah, maybe that was still a little too real, because it made him cringe when he thought about it.

But even with Summer, there had always been some thread of reality. Well, not reality, but a hopefulness, a part of him that imagined she’d really sail to Tahiti with him. Because she was a girl. And he was a boy. And that was the way things worked in Newport.

Well, unless you were Luke’s dad.

With Ryan, there had been none of that. After all, Seth was straight.

Okay, well, maybe Seth was never really straight, but Ryan? Ryan was _straight_. He worked out, with the whole muscles-on-top-of-muscles to back it up. He watched the NCAA tournament, and yelled at the refs right along with Seth’s dad. He occasionally grunted instead of speaking. He drank milk straight from the carton, for god’s sake! (Seth had discovered this dirty little secret when he ambled down to the kitchen early one morning and caught Ryan as he polished off the last dregs of Horizon Organic. Ryan had wiped his mouth with a grey sleeve and shot a guilty grin as he tossed the empty cardboard into the garbage can.)

Most of all, Ryan dated girls. Or, like, not dated, because he and Seth had cleared that up when the whole Marissa phase had happened. But Ryan had *girls*. That he could count on his fingers. He had actual flesh-and-blood experiences that he could call up from memory way way back before Seth had Summer, before Seth had anything beyond a fantasy.

Fantasies. Seth’s fantasies about Ryan were elaborate. Like, they ended up locked in a coat closet at some party where they had been bored out of their minds. After Seth had stopped the whole freaking out bit, they would lay down on a pile of fluffy winter parkas (even though, obviously no one wore winter parkas in Newport, but it was *Seth’s* fantasy, and so, parkas.) And they’d fall asleep together, and Seth would wake up with a raging hard on and Ryan’s arm flung across his torso, and…

Or they were Frodo and Sam, and they were lost in the forest, and they were on a mission that would almost certainly kill them, and they had all this pent up sexual hobbit tension, although maybe less of the hobbit-hair. Seth was Frodo, because he had the dark hair, and Ryan was Sam, with the light hair, of course, and…

Or they were on a desert island, with all the requisite mangoes and coconuts and monkey butlers so they didn’t really have to worry about being rescued or dying or anything beyond whether the monkey butlers would revolt and steal the coconut radio and tune it to really bad stuff, like Barry Manilow and Billy Joel and the other kinds of music his mom would listen to when she was feeling maudlin. And one day Ryan would saunter up with a coy grin after a long naked swim in the ocean, and…

Seth tended to cut himself off at the ‘and’ and try to insert Summer’s face into the scenarios as he finished jerking off, but as his body bucked under the pressure of his hand, Ryan’s face, all observy with the blue eyes and mussed hair, had a disconcerting way of floating back into the picture.

So, it was a surprise. No. Erase that. More than a surprise. It was a shock on gargantuan levels, like finding out Darth was Luke’s father, or that Vaughn was married on Alias. It was a surprise that he was here. In Ryan’s poolhouse.

No, it wasn’t a surprise that he was in Ryan’s poolhouse, because he was there a lot. Like, every morning. And most afternoons. And, well, if he wanted to be honest about it more than a fair share of evenings. (Not to mention the twilights, gloamings, and even the rare witching hour.) But not like this. Not in Ryan’s poolhouse *bed*, and not just while sitting around and reading comics either, but in honest to god bed-related activities.

It was a surprise that Ryan had stared Seth straight in the face as he hooked his fingers under the hem of Seth’s artfully faded blue t-shirt and drew it over Seth’s head, smoothly, reminding Seth vaguely of the difficulty he’d had had with Summer and Anna, once upon a time.

It was a surprise when Ryan’s tongue followed the path his fingers had taken, starting at the place where Seth’s jeans met his skin, the strip of boxers that rose above them. Ryan’s tongue trailed from Seth’s stomach, up and to the side, tracing circles around Seth’s nipples. Seth’s head fell back as Ryan’s mouth found the hollow of his neck, moved to the side, near the collarbone, warm and wet and oh god.

Ryan drew back with a smug grin on his face as Seth rocked back and forth, his hands gripping his bare feet for lack of something better to do. Not that he was impatient. With the rocking and all. His hands decided that they didn’t like his feet, and he reached out to grab Ryan’s shirt, pull him back. He was denied as Ryan leaned back, a slow grin spreading across Ryan’s face.

“My time, okay?” Ryan licked his bottom lip as his wifebeater followed the same path Seth’s shirt had taken, the white and blue fabrics making an abstract heap on the poolhouse chair.

Ryan had good aim when it came to shirt tossing. It must have been all those years of organized sports that Seth sorely lacked.

Seth let his body fall back against the pillows, his dick already straining against the fabric of his jeans as Ryan moved to straddle his legs.

“Ryan…” he began, before Ryan leaned in, tongue sweeping across Seth’s lower lip as his hands worked at Seth’s fly.

He gasped for breath as Ryan pulled back, smirk on his face. “You were saying.”

“Yeah, I was saying you should keep doing what you’re doing, and um, I’m totally not with the interfering, because I’m good like that, and I listen when you tell me. You know, if you wanted to tell me to take off all my clothes right now I’d be okay with that, more than okay, great really…”

As Seth talked, Ryan’s fingers moved deftly down the length of Seth’s fly, taking great care with each one of the buttons.

Too much fucking care. Didn’t Ryan realize Seth was seventeen? And his erection was beginning to rival a large garden vegetable?

“Got that covered myself.” Ryan said as his fingers eased under the waistband of Seth’s jeans, and Seth’s hips lifted of their own accord.

Seth prayed that he’d make quick work of the boxers as well, because he was pretty sure the tip of his dick looked pretty funny threatening to poke a hole in the plaid. Instead, Ryan’s mouth followed the trajectory of Seth’s jeans, which inched down as slowly as Ryan had unbuttoned the fly.

Except. Wow. This was better because Ryan’s mouth followed the trail of exposed skin that the jeans left behind them, starting at midthigh, working down to the smooth, hairless spot behind Seth’s knee as Seth’s fingers scrabbled against the sheets.

It was like watching Friends, that episode where Monica and Rachel pointed out all the erogenous zones to Chandler, and Chandler was all shocked at the number that existed. Although if Seth were to be honest, his whole body was pretty much an erogenous zone at the moment. The spot behind his knee was just the lucky patch of skin.

The jeans fell over his ankles and Seth shuddered involuntarily as he watched them join the boys’ shirts on the chair.

Ryan’s jeans felt strangely rough and stiff against Seth’s bare legs as Ryan slid his way back up Seth’s body, the skin on their torsos so close that Seth could feel the heat even though they weren’t touching, not quite, but the not touching was almost better, as every nerve in Seth’s body tingled, waiting for the moment when they would.

Ryan hovered above Seth for a moment before trapping his mouth in a kiss again, their teeth clicking together in Seth’s urgency. He forgot all about Ryan’s “no touching” rule as his hands reached to pull Ryan in, to press their chests together, warm and damp.

He figured Ryan had forgotten too, because he didn’t pull away.

Seth’s hips began moving against Ryan’s in quick strokes as he pulled Ryan’s ass into his body more, reaching his fingers into Ryan’s pockets and slipping them out again so they could find their way between Ryan’s jeans and his underwear.

Seth bit his lip as Ryan moved and thrust against him in response to Seth’s touch, and Seth grinned as he heard a quiet, not quite repressed whimper.

“Fuck this, Seth.” Ryan growled and moved up, off Seth for a moment. His jeans were off before weak offers to help with that even emerged from Seth’s mouth, falling on the floor, as if Ryan didn’t want to take the time or energy to find the chair.

Seth moved from his prone position before Ryan could take care of the boxer-briefs himself, and their mouths found each other urgently as Seth’s hands moved under black cotton, sliding it down around Ryan’s thighs, catching around his knees before they were pushed to the side of the futon in a damp heap.

If it were possible, Ryan’s skin was even hotter under the briefs, and he moaned as Seth’s hand snaked around to find Ryan’s cock.

Ryan was smaller than Seth, and he was thicker too, but Seth found a strange familiarity in his actions. After all, this was something he knew how to do. He found himself forgetting his own dick, his own boxers which only seconds before had definitely needed removing, as Ryan thrust sharply into Seth’s hand.

“Wait.” Ryan managed between quick and heavy breaths, his eyes traveling down Seth’s body, taking stock, and Seth found his gut dropping again. At this rate, it was going to be oozing out of his toes by the end of the night.

A few seconds later, Seth’s boxers were off, and it was just. Skin. On skin. And Ryan’s hand was on Seth’s cock and Seth had found the spot behind Ryan’s balls and was manipulating it gently with his fingertips as Ryan’s other hand made its way around to Seth’s ass.

Ryan’s teeth were nipping at Seth’s earlobe, and if behind the knee was a surprise erogenous zone, this definitely wasn’t, but god, it was better. Ryan switched between tongue and teeth as he traveled around the shell of Seth’s ear.

Seth closed his eyes (or had they already been closed?) and saw spots of purple dancing behind his vision, felt his body fall back again, beads of sweat emerging on his neck as Ryan moved on top of him. Seth’s hand moved off Ryan’s dick, fingers finding their way into the hollow of Ryan’s spine as he urged Ryan to move against him.

“God. Fuck. Seth.” Ryan grunted between grits of his teeth as their hips collided. Ryan pulled his hand out from between their bodies and cupped Seth’s face. Ryan’s tongue dove in and out of Seth’s mouth, matching the rhythm of their lower bodies. Seth arched and moaned when Ryan drew back to trace the contours of Seth’s swollen lips with the tip of his tongue.

The friction was just. Wow. And Ryan’s eyes were open, wide, and he was mouthing Seth’s name, and Seth felt his last bit of resistance give as he shuddered and came, warmth coating his stomach.

Still panting, he reached down and wrapped his hand around Ryan again, Ryan’s dick already slick with Seth’s come, and it only took a few quick strokes, Seth’s fingers passing over the head of Ryan’s dick teasingly, before Ryan stiffened and strained against Seth’s hand.

“Ryan?” Seth murmured, as he felt his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

“Yeah?” Ryan lifted his head from where it had fallen on the pillow, his hair matted and falling over his left eye, and Seth appraised the redness of Ryan’s mouth, the razor burn on Ryan’s chin.

“This isn’t how it usually happened.” Ryan’s confused gaze fell on Seth.

“I mean, usually, there were down-filled parkas. Or an island. But, not, like, a Survivor island, or an island where volleyballs were your friend. But a cool, Gilligan style island. Only without Gilligan. And with monkey butlers.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow as Seth rushed to correct himself. “I mean, this was good too. Great, even.”

Better than great. Which meant it was probably time to bask in the moment, sans-talking.

He could explain the part about the monkey butlers tomorrow.


End file.
